Chapter 102: Li Qianfeng Returns Home

The time in the small courtyard flowed in quiet stillness.

Since Li Hao and Bian Ruxue returned to the mansion on the temple fair day, the two had not stepped out again, silently awaiting that day’s arrival.

On ordinary days, Bian Ruxue practiced sword intent within the courtyard, practicing only intent, never forms.

Otherwise, the force of the sword forms would be too fierce, slicing away the last trace of autumn color in the courtyard.

When the sword dance ended, the girl turned her gaze toward the pavilion.

But the pavilion was empty, its former boy’s figure long gone.

In her clear, snowlike eyes, a faint shadow of gloom and sorrow crept in, yet only for a moment—she quickly restrained it and returned to cultivating sword intent.

In the Li family ancestral hall, Li Hao’s figure occasionally appeared—he sought out Fifth Master for a game of go, or went to the Listening-to-Rain Tower, randomly opening a book and sitting there the entire day.

The two-month deadline drew ever closer, down to only ten days remaining.

On this day, Li Hao found an open spot by a pond in the courtyard, pulled out his painting board, untouched for half a month, and prepared to paint the last deep-autumn leaf.

A figure sprinted into the courtyard—it was Li Yuanzhao.

He rushed to Li Hao’s side, panting: “Hao-ge, Qianqian is looking for you.”

“Qianqian?”

“Ren Qianqian—the one who went with us to Cangyu City,” Li Yuanzhao hurriedly said.

Li Hao recalled: “What does she want?”

“She says her father agreed—she wants to learn swordplay from you,” Li Yuanzhao said at once.

Li Hao remembered the matter and felt slightly surprised.

“Hao-ge, will you agree? If you do, I’ll bring her over,” Li Yuanzhao asked—he’d only come to deliver the message.

Li Hao thought for a moment: “Alright.”

Since she was so determined, he couldn’t refuse further.

“Got it!”

Li Yuanzhao grinned: “She’s outside the mansion—I’ll go get her now.”

Li Hao nodded.

By the time he finished grinding ink and completing the painting, Li Yuanzhao led Ren Qianqian over—a slender, beautiful girl.

The girl held a sword in her arms, her gaze not sweeping wildly, but gently shifting left and right as she observed the Divine General’s Mansion, so many had envied and longed for.

Even as the daughter of a True Person, well-traveled and well-versed, Ren Qianqian could not help but show a touch of nervousness on her cheeks.

From the mansion’s main gate to the Shanhe Courtyard, the journey was not short—every few paces, personal guards radiating lethal aura stood watch, and patrols of servants frequently passed by.

It was called a mansion, yet in truth, it differed little from a small palace.

Along the way, Ren Qianqian had seen several figures whose aura resembled her father’s, even deeper and more restrained.

Yet they lacked the ethereal detachment of a True Person—they carried instead a more profound, blood-soaked, corpse-littered inner killing aura! It startled her: these figures, who had crossed the Heavenly Gate and were hailed as True Persons, seemed mere servants within the Divine General’s Mansion.

“Hao-ge, Qianqian’s here,” Li Yuanzhao called cheerfully.

By the pond, only Li Hao sat alone.

Ren Qianqian gazed at this prodigious youth whose name had thundered through the city in recent days, and her eyes sparkled.

Since the battle in Cangyu City, she’d anticipated his fame would sweep across Qingzhou City—but she never imagined it would erupt so fiercely.

Now, she saw Li Hao clad in white robes, radiating natural nobility, brush in hand, having just paused his brushwork.

Ren Qianqian was startled and surprised—she’d assumed a genius like Li Hao would be perpetually immersed in cultivation.

Instead, he appeared so leisurely.

“I’ve made up my mind.”

Ren Qianqian pulled her thoughts back, straightened her posture, and said: “I want to learn swordplay from you—the strongest sword art of the Li family. I vow to serve you for life!”

Li Hao’s lips twitched slightly—another child willing to sacrifice everything for the sword.

He let out a quiet sigh in his heart, setting the brush beside the inkstone.

Then he turned on his chair to face the girl, asking seriously: “Are you truly certain?”

“Completely certain!” Ren Qianqian’s gaze grew solemn and heavy.

“Your father agreed?”

“He already agreed.”

“Really?”

Ren Qianqian nodded, clutching her sword tightly: “I want to surpass the True Person—through my sword, I will achieve immortality!”

Li Hao smiled faintly: “What good is immortality? A True Person is not beyond the world, nor is immortality truly eternal.”

“Once today passes, you become Li family property—you can never leave again, even if you destroy your own martial arts. As long as you remember, you won’t be allowed to go.”

“Unless you die!”

As he spoke, his gaze suddenly sharpened like a blade, fixed on the girl: “Can you truly do it?”

Ren Qianqian’s heart trembled slightly—facing Li Hao’s piercing stare, she instinctively wanted to step back, overwhelmed by the crushing pressure.

But as her heel lifted, her body froze—she thought: if she couldn’t even endure the gaze of a boy her own age, how could she ever cultivate the sword? How could she ever achieve immortality through the sword?!

She took a deep breath, gripping her sword tighter, gritting her teeth: “I can. I can do it!”

Li Hao studied her deeply, then turned his gaze away, speaking calmly: “Alright. From today, you are my sword attendant—carry my sword for me.”

Ren Qianqian’s heart trembled slightly, and she immediately nodded: “Thank you!”

“No need to thank me—we each give something.”

Li Hao said: “I’ll take you to see Old Zhao—you’ll sign the household contract with him, and get familiar with the mansion’s environment and rules.”

“Yes.”

Ren Qianqian nodded, then asked: “When can I start learning swordplay?”

Li Hao glanced at her: “I’ll teach you one sword first. You ponder it slowly, understand it slowly—if you don’t understand, ask me.”

“Alright.”

Ren Qianqian’s face lit up with joy—then she noticed Li Hao had no sword, and quickly offered hers:

“You can use my sword.”

“No need.”

Li Hao turned, picked up the brush resting beside the inkstone.

Then casually flicked out a sword qi.

The sword qi swept across the pond—the water split apart automatically, the cut resembling a severed waterfall.

Several breaths passed before the split slowly healed, yet the sword qi, having crossed the pond’s end, caused no disturbance—not a blade of grass or tree was harmed.

Li Yuanzhao and Ren Qianqian both froze, stunned in place.

They could also unleash sword qi—but to do so as effortlessly as Li Hao, they’d never dared imagine. Especially that the sword qi vanished without a trace—this mastery, this effortless control, was utterly astonishing! “Hao-ge…”

Li Yuanzhao snapped back to himself: “Hao-ge, I want to learn too!”

“Go flip through the sword scrolls in the Listening-to-Rain Tower yourself.”

Li Hao gave him a look: “Come ask me when you can’t understand it.”

“Got it!”

Li Yuanzhao beamed, bade Li Hao farewell, and dashed off eagerly.

Ren Qianqian, however, remained staring at the pond, lost in thought.

Time flew by.

In the following days, Li Hao continued reading in the Listening-to-Rain Tower, occasionally standing in the courtyard lost in thought.

As for Ren Qianqian, Li Hao did not rush to teach her the Listening-to-Rain Tower’s sword art—he had her practice alone in the courtyard, occasionally correcting her, pointing out flaws in her technique, gradually refining it toward perfection, inching toward the ultimate level.

In the courtyard.

Li Hao stood with his hands behind his back, gazing at a bare, yellowed tree.

Bian Ruxue walked over, noticing a girl practicing swordplay on the other side of the tree—her eyes flickered slightly.

In recent days, she’d heard the girl was Li Hao’s sword attendant, the daughter of a True Person.

Yet though the daughter of a True Person was noble, in the Divine General’s Mansion, that meant nothing unusual.

Bian Ruxue saw the girl’s sword art was quite refined—but still far inferior to her own.

So she paid no further attention—after all, countless swordsmen walked the world, and many possessed refined sword art.

“Hao-ge, what are you looking at?”

Bian Ruxue, seeing Li Hao gaze at the bare tree, asked.

The last trace of autumn color on the tree had long withered.

Li Hao’s gaze sharpened, and he whispered: “I’m watching the wind.”

“The wind?”

Bian Ruxue looked around—the wind blew through heaven and earth, but one could only feel it—how could one “see” it?

“Too bad the wind is too weak.”

Li Hao smiled: “Weak enough to not lift the scattered fallen leaves, let alone shake this tree.”

Bian Ruxue paused, staring at the bare tree.

Indeed, she felt the wind brushing her face—if the tree were full of leaves in spring, one could see its shape.

But now it was deep autumn.

Suddenly, a thudding sound came from the ground.

Then, a flood of hooves galloped past outside the courtyard.

Bian Ruxue was surprised.

Riding horses within the mansion was not unusual, but who would ride in a group, so recklessly and at breakneck speed? Her spiritual sense left her body and soared upward; she looked down and saw a group of figures clad in monk’s robes galloping past the road outside the Shanhe Courtyard, heading toward a distant direction.

That place was the Shuihua Courtyard.

And the leader of that group was a middle-aged man draped in pure white robes, his Buddhist countenance solemn and dignified.

Besides practicing swordplay, Bian Ruxue had, under the instruction of her senior brothers in the Sword Cottage, studied the major powers of the world to prepare for her future entry into the mortal realm.

Social graces and the ability to recognize people and paths were even more vital than swords and blades in the Jianghu.

And these people before her were from Wuliang Mountain.

The leading middle-aged man was dressed as a Bodhisattva of Wuliang Mountain.

A Bodhisattva was a Fourth Establishment cultivator—second only to the Wuliang Buddha Lord, who had enjoyed a thousand years of incense offerings!

Bian Ruxue’s expression changed slightly; soon, she saw beside the Bodhisattva a teenage boy riding in parallel.

He passed by swiftly, but at that moment he suddenly turned his head and locked eyes with Bian Ruxue’s spiritual sense.

Bian Ruxue immediately knew: he was the son of her second aunt—the true dragon contender Li Hao was facing! Li Qianfeng! The warhorse galloped fast; their gaze met only for a flash, and the boy turned back, riding away.

Bian Ruxue’s spiritual sense returned to her body; her face grew grave as she told Li Hao: “Brother Hao, be careful of that man—I just felt he’s far from ordinary!”

That brief eye contact had sent a chill through her, making every hair on her body stand on end; she had the feeling that if he struck, he could kill her in an instant. This made her heart ache with worry for Li Hao.

“Mm.”

Li Hao smiled.

A light breeze brushed past his feet, lifting only a fallen leaf, flipping it onto his shoe.

As the countdown continued, since Li Qianfeng returned to the mansion, the Divine General’s Mansion had grown increasingly lively.

Every day, visitors came calling, but most headed for the Shuihua Courtyard.

These people were mostly relatives of the Liu clan, naturally come to support their nephew.

On the third-to-last day, Li Tiangang, accompanied by Li Xuanli and the ladies of all courtyards, went deep into the Wangyou Mountain within the mansion to escort down the old woman who had spent twenty years fasting and chanting sutras.

This old woman was Li Tiangang’s mother.

Chen Hefang.

She was also Li Hao’s biological grandmother.

At the same time, the old woman was from the Chen family, one of the Five Divine General Mansions.

She had once married far into the Li family and bore nine sons who became renowned throughout the land for that generation’s Li true dragon.

But the old woman seemed to have long since severed ties with the Chen family.

The grudges, loves, and hatreds among the thousand-year-old Divine General Mansions ran deep, compounded by internal feuds within each mansion—impossible to summarize in a few words.

After Chen Hefang was brought out, everyone in the Divine General’s Mansion gathered in the Qinglian Courtyard, long abandoned and now cleaned.

In the vast main hall, Li Tiangang and the second generation gathered to pay respects; even Uncle Eight, Li Fenghua, who guarded the northern frontier, rushed back. For this true dragon selection, all were expected to attend unless truly unable to leave.

Here, Li Hao met Li Qianfeng again.

For Li Qianfeng, this was his first time seeing Li Hao.

As a child, when Li Hao had been brought into the courtyard by his mother, Li Qianfeng had paid no attention—even if he had seen him, he had long forgotten, never giving it a second thought.

Is this the son of Seventh Uncle? He stood with his hands behind his back, tilting his head to study Li Hao, eyes half-lidded.

He had also glanced at Li Wushuang standing behind Li Hao and the rest of the Li third generation, but none had caught his eye.

The Li Wushuang he had once regarded as a rival now, under his scrutiny, revealed only a Spirit Traveling realm cultivator—never having crossed the fifteen-li threshold.

Even if they were matched in realm, he was not afraid.

Only this boy, whose name had stirred Qingzhou and was gradually spreading to other provinces, gave him a sense of profound depth.

He could not fathom Li Hao’s cultivation realm at all.

(End of Chapter)